Back to the Kluture
by WhatIKnew
Summary: Cracky Future/AU fic. Based on a conversation where we decided that the old couple sitting in the coffee shop during the BIOTA argument were actually Kurt and Blaine from the future. Slightly better with the pictures I used with it on tumblr.


"Where are—oh _really_, Blaine? Of all the places we could go, you bring us to Lima, Ohio?" Kurt asked, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed their sudden appearance and grabbing a nearby newspaper. "And you couldn't have set us down outside?"

"I don't really have too much control over our exact landing point, Kurt," Blaine said in the patient voice of a man who had been indulging Kurt Hummel for 50 years and he set a cup of coffee down in front of Kurt. "Besides, you got to pick last time and you made me hide in Madonna's closet for seven hours."

"That was amazing."

"There are some things you can't unsee, babe," Blaine shuddered a little.

"When are we, anyway?" Kurt asked, combing the newspaper for anything that looked familiar. It was strange to feel the flimsy paper in his hands again, and he remembered with distaste how the ink always stained his fingers.

"You'll see," Blaine smiled, visibly perking up when his roaming eyes found their target. He nudged Kurt's knee under the table and cocked his head toward the two approaching young men.

_Rachel just asked me out_

_That's amazing - she's got a girl crush on you!_

"Is this your way of telling me you're questioning your sexuality again, Blaine?" Kurt raised an eyebrow, averting his eyes from the boys. "Because I think that train has left the station." He ran his hand across his forehead, unconsciously pushing back the bangs that had traveled a few inches back. Blaine recognized the nervous tic and squeezed his other hand with a smile.

"I know you don't like remembering this," he said quietly. "But it's important to me. This is when we changed." He'd lost Kurt's attention a little and saw him mirroring his younger self, watching the dark haired boy standing at the trash can. "You can't keep your eyes off of me."

"Never could," Kurt smiled. He knew how significant this moment was to Blaine; he'd certainly explained it enough. The night they finally made the leap, the day they'd moved in together, the night he'd proposed 40 years ago. Of course Blaine had brought him here. "Look at your _hair_ though. You can actually see the curls in their lifelong struggle to escape from Gel Mountain."

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine waved his hand. "You already won that battle. Wait, wait, here it comes."

_Bisexual is a term that gay guys in high school use when they want to hold hands with girls_

"Hold hands? Really?" he laughed, and Kurt dissolved in giggles across from him. "Out of everything in the Kurt Hummel arsenal of verbal weaponry, you went with 'hold hands with girls'?"

"Shut up," Kurt broke off a piece of their shared cookie and shoved it unceremoniously into his husband's mouth. "I wasn't exactly in top form. The object of my affection was in the middle of ditching me for _Rachel Berry_. I was just trying not to scream."

"God I was a mess," Blaine sighed, and Kurt saw him staring at his past self, practically bracing himself against the table.

_Sort of exactly what you're saying to me right now?_

"Sorry," Blaine said immediately. "As soon as I said it I was sorry," he continued, though Kurt could almost have this conversation by himself by now with how many times it had been rehashed. "I realized that I basically called you Karofsky. But I was too far gone."

"I know, sweetie," Kurt smiled, patting his hand while he watched the fight unfold, watched himself try to hold it together while the other boy unraveled. "Your crying face is still the same. Still unflattering," he said, trying to lighten the moment.

"Thanks," Blaine snorted. "I love you too. Wait, here comes the storm-out." The boy stood up and Blaine caught his own eye for a second, grimacing at the pain there.

_I'd say 'bye' but I wouldn't want to make you angry_

"So 'holding hands with girls' was bad but puns are acceptable?" Kurt asked, and even though he was joking he couldn't help but frown at the desperate sadness in his young eyes.

"Give me a break. I was about to burst into tears," Blaine said, laughing softly. He watched himself disappear through the door, watched the boy he'd fallen in love with either 50 years in the past or a month in the future (depending on where you counted from) toss his cup in the trash, shoulder his bag with a sigh, and set off toward the door.

"Is your nostalgia reserve filled?" Kurt asked, poking Blaine in the ribs. "Can we go?"

"Sure," Blaine grinned as he stood, collecting their cups and setting off toward the trash can. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Kurt watching him with a small smile. "Where to?"

"I read about this night at Studio 54; there was a huge raid and all of these people got arrested. Want to see if we can escape?" Kurt stood, bouncing on his heels with bright eyes, and for a moment he was the same excitable boy who'd just walked out the door.

"I suppose," he smiled indulgently, pulling the metal tablet out of his pocket as Kurt rattled off dates and times. He held the door open when they exited, then slipped his free hand into Kurt's. "Question."

"Hmm?" Kurt asked, tilting his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Why is it that I always want to visit our past, and you always want to get us arrested?"

"Because you're our heart," Kurt said simply, squeezing his hand. "And I'm our courage." Blaine hit one final button, smiling fondly as the two old men dissolved into the haze of the afternoon.


End file.
